


don't know why it's taken us so long

by rarmaster



Series: yuboat drabbles [3]
Category: Tales of Symphonia
Genre: M/M, just two gay fools in love, no plot just a conversation, real talk my favorite kind of drabble to write is the kind where characters just feelings jam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 20:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19092859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarmaster/pseuds/rarmaster
Summary: Sequel totip of your tongue; Yuan and Botta discuss why, exactly, this took them as long as it did.





	don't know why it's taken us so long

**Author's Note:**

> honestly it's embarrassing how long I've been sitting on this, "unfinished" when it really wasn't unfinished at all? anyway happy pride month

Yuan sits on his couch, feet up on the coffee table. Even though Yuan’s been doing this for years, Botta still has half a mind to tell him it’s bad for the furniture, but Botta decides against bringing it up, like always. It’s not like it’s _his_ coffee table. If Yuan wants to ruin his own furniture despite all the time he spends on the interior design of his rooms, then that’s on him.

Botta sits next to Yuan on the couch—not as close as they could be, but in this moment Botta doesn’t _need_ to be close. Just the fact he can choose to be is enough, more than enough, really.

Yuan’s working on paperwork, which Botta should also be working on, but he’s distracted. It’s hard not to be, in the wake of how much his relationship with Yuan has changed practically overnight. It’s a lot to get used to.

(His pillows, which he’d brought here a few nights ago so he could sleep close to Yuan while Yuan was completely shitfaced to make sure he was there if Yuan needed anything, have moved from the couch to Yuan’s bed. Similarly, most of Botta’s free time is now spent in Yuan’s quarters, as are all of his nights. It’s strange and delightful all at once.)

Botta shifts to press his knee against Yuan’s thigh, just because he can.

Yuan glances at him, all raised eyebrows and subtle smirk.

“Shouldn’t you be working on paperwork?” he asks.

“Shouldn’t you?” Botta replies, knowing very well that Yuan’s been staring at the same piece of paper for the past five minutes.

Yuan laughs. “Yes, I should,” he says, turning his attention back to it with unseeing eyes. The unspoken promise that neither of them have the brain power available for it hangs heavy in the air, which means Botta doesn’t feel a little bit guilty about his next question.

“Hey, Yuan?”

“Mm?”

“How long have you known?”

“Know what?”

“That you love me.”

“Hm.” Yuan lifts his gaze up from the paperwork, though his eyes fix somewhere distant instead, as he tries to calculate. Botta gives him a moment, knowing that things like time get a little harder to keep track of the longer you live. Botta has some difficulty already, and he’s only a couple hundred of years old, while Yuan is over four thousand. “Six months, I think. Not very long.”

Botta chuckles. Six months can’t feel like very long to someone as old as Yuan.

“What made you realize?” Botta asks. When Yuan sends him a somewhat exasperated look, he shrugs and smiles and says: “Call me curious.”

Yuan hesitates, then shakes his head, laughing. “It was nothing, really, nothing special,” he says.

“I’m still curious,” Botta insists, because he is.

Yuan considers him, eyes bright and smile easy—he looks so _relaxed,_ has looked so relaxed these past few days, and it makes Botta warm. That’s all he’s ever wanted, honestly. For Yuan to feel the weight on his shoulders a little less strongly. For Yuan to be _happy_.

“You brought me breakfast one morning,” Yuan says, and Botta laughs.

“I… do that a lot,” he says.

“Exactly,” Yuan says, like that’s perhaps part of the realization. “You do that a lot. But…” He sighs, still shaking his head and laughing softly to himself. “I suppose that one morning, I realized how much I really appreciated it. Appreciated _you._ All the things you do for me, and the impact you’ve had on my life…” He trails off, then turns and meet’s Botta’s eyes.

The intensity of Yuan’s gaze sends a shiver down Botta’s spine.

“How long have you known, Botta?” Yuan asks. “Because I get the feeling you’ve known for a long time.”

“Well,” Botta says, a little embarrassed.

“Am I right?”

“Don’t laugh,” Botta mumbles, averting his gaze.

“How long, Botta?” Yuan presses.

“Two years?”

“Oh, _Botta_.” Even if things like six months feel incredibly short to Yuan, he still understands conceptually that two years is kind of a long time. “And you didn’t _say_ anything?”

“You didn’t, either,” Botta argues.

Yuan looks caught, with that accusation. He huffs. “I didn’t want to make things weird,” he admits. “I didn’t want things to change.”

“Me neither,” Botta says.

“But.” Yuan hums, thoughtful, slowly grinning again. He finally gives up the pretense of actually intending to do his paperwork and just drops it on the coffee table, moving his feet to the floor so he has a place to put the papers. And also so he can twist a little bit, leaning in towards Botta, hand finding a place to rest on Botta’s thigh. “I’m… glad they changed like this, actually,” he says, smirking playfully. “I think I would have lost my mind if I had to keep pretending _this_ wasn’t something I wanted.”

Between Yuan’s proximity and that smirk and the promise in Yuan’s eyes, Botta is quite certain he would have lost his mind, too. Rather than try to find the words to articulate that, he just pulls Yuan into a kiss.


End file.
